


The Valentine's Day Gift

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire both panic over what to get the other for Valentine's Day.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as four ficlets on tumblr, so the easiest was to publish in four chapters here (mainly because to make it one long one-shot, I would've had to rework the transitions between parts 3 and 4 and I do not have time for that right now).
> 
> Otherwise, usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“I’m fucked.”

Enjolras didn’t mean to actually say the words out loud, especially not in that tone of utter panic, so it was no surprise that Combeferre immediately looked up from his phone, alarmed. “What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

“Nothing,” Enjolras said quickly.

Too quickly, judging by the way Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “Enjolras—” he started, and Enjolras sighed.

“Fine, but it’s stupid.” Combeferre just looked at him and Enjolras sighed again before finally relenting. “I forgot what day it was.”

“What day it...” Combeferre trailed off as he glanced down at the date on his phone. “Oh. Of course. Valentine’s Day.” He glanced around the café as if just now realizing that they were surrounded by couples. “That explains a lot.” He looked back at Enjolras. “Don’t tell me you forgot to get something for Grantaire.”

“Forgot is a strong word,” Enjolras said weakly. “It’s more that I’ve been putting it off and...”

He trailed off and Combeferre nodded. “And now you’ve run out of time to put it off to,” he said. “So what are you going to do?”

“No idea,” Enjolras said gloomily. “And it doesn’t help that Grantaire is amazing at gift giving and I’m, well, not.”

“I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think,” Combeferre said loyally.

Enjolras gave him a withering look. “Have I ever given you something that you didn’t return or exchange?” he asked gloomily. Combeferre suddenly seemed very busy with his phone and Enjolras sighed. “Exactly.”

“Fine, I will stipulate that gift-giving is not your forte, but you’re also not buying a gift for me right now,” Combeferre said. “You’re buying a gift for Grantaire, who will love anything you give him because it’s from you, and he’s a sap.” Enjolras made a face and Combeferre sighed. “Well, what did you get him last year? Start there.”

Enjolras flushed. “A bottle of scotch,” he muttered.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Enjolras groaned and buried his face in his hands. “It was awful,” he said, pained. “I had it all planned, I knew exactly what kind of whiskey to get, and then I got to the liquor store and the sales person asked me who I was shopping for and I told him my boyfriend and the next thing I knew, he had talked me out of buying the kind of whiskey I had gone in for and buying an entirely different – and more expensive – kind of whisky instead.”

Combeferre frowned. “I’m still not sure I see—“

“Turns out it was the same brand of whisky Grantaire bought my father for Christmas.”

“Oh.”

Enjolras’s face was roughly the color of a tomato. “Freud would’ve had a fucking field day, so Grantaire did instead,” he muttered. “Every time he poured himself a glass he’d ask me, ‘Who’s your daddy?’”

“That’s—”

“Horrifying, I know.” Combeferre looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh and Enjolras sighed. “What?” he asked tiredly.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Well at least you didn’t buy him whatever he bought for your mother that year.”

Enjolras scowled. “Don’t even go there.”

“Then look at it this way: you can only go up from here.”

Enjolras just groaned again.


	2. Chapter 2

“You seem...happy.”

Grantaire looked up – well, as up as he could, since he was currently lounging mostly upside down off of Joly and Bossuet’s couch – at Joly. “And you sound suspicious. Like I’m not supposed to be happy.”

Joly plopped down on the other end of the couch. “You are absolutely supposed to be happy,” he said firmly. “But it’s also Valentine’s Day, which tends to be a day of fretting over what Enjolras is going to think of your gift.”

“Which always ends up with you worrying for nothing,” Bossuet added, not looking up from examining the enormous box of chocolates that was his, Joly and Musichetta’s annual tradition, “because Enjolras always loves what you get him.”

He picked up a chocolate and bit into it confidently, only to immediately choke. “Cherry cordial,” he spluttered, spitting the chocolate remnants into a napkin.

Joly shook his head fondly. “Every year,” he murmured, before raising his voice to tell Bossuet, “The caramels are square-shaped, love.”

Grantaire sighed and sat up, blinking rapidly as all of the blood that had pooled in his head rushed to the rest of his body. “While you are correct on both counts, in that I normally worry and it’s normally for nothing, this year, I don’t have that problem.”

Bossuet sniffed cautiously at another chocolate before nibbling the edge, brightening when it was the caramel he was after and shoving it into his mouth. “Why not?” he asked through his mouthful of caramel and chocolate.

“Because Enjolras and I aren’t doing gifts this year.”

Joly and Bossuet exchanged glances. “When you say you aren’t doing gifts this year...” Joly started.

“I mean that we agreed that this year we were just going to have a nice dinner,” Grantaire said. “Simple, sweet. Just the two of us.”

Bossuet’s brow furrowed. “And when you say that you agreed...”

Grantaire frowned. “I mean that we talked about it,” he said, glancing between the two of them. “Why, what are you two getting at?”

“Just...” Joly worried his lower lip with his teeth. “Did you and Enjolras actually talk about this?”

“Yes.”

“And Enjolras contributed to the conversation?” Bossuet asked.

Grantaire stared at him. “Unless you have a different definition of ‘talking’—“

Joly sighed. “Ok, do you remember your birthday, two years ago, when Enjolras got you that hideous bird statue that it turned out he was regifting from his great-aunt?”

“How could I forget,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Right, well, that year you told him you didn’t want any gifts.”

“So?”

Joly sighed. “So you told Enjolras you didn’t want any presents when he was in the middle of rage-tweeting about infrastructure week. And he didn’t hear a word you said.”

“And we’re just concerned that Enjolras may, uh, may also not have been listening this time around,” Bossuet added delicately.

Grantaire stared at them, every protest he had dying on his lips as he remembered that Enjolras had in fact been scrolling through his phone while they talked about Valentine’s Day.

“Oh my God,” he said. “I’m fucked.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Grantaire?” Enjolras called as he let himself into their apartment, half-expecting Grantaire to be waiting for him with some elaborate gift.

Grantaire appeared from the kitchen, looking shame-faced. “Hi,” he said, hesitating before shoving the box in his hands at Enjolras and blurting, “Ok, so I promise I can explain.”

Enjolras looked down at the box and back at Grantaire, bemused. “Grantaire—“

“I mean it, there’s a really excellent explanation and it’s actually kind of a funny story when you think about it—“

“Grantaire—“

“And one day, we’re gonna look back at this and we’re going to laugh—“

“Grantaire.” Grantaire finally broke off and Enjolras half-smiled at him. “Can I open it before you get into whatever explanation you intend on offering?”

Grantaire flushed. “Oh, um, of course,” he muttered.

Enjolras carefully opened the box, half-holding his breath at whatever amazing present Grantaire had gotten for him. Instead, he pulled out a white stuffed bear that was holding a plush bear that read: “I love you beary much.” Enjolras read it out loud, trying very hard not to laugh, and took a moment before telling Grantaire, with absolutely no sincerity whatsoever, “How’d you know? I’ve always wanted one of these.”

Grantaire groaned. “Like I said, I can explain...” He gnawed on his bottom lip before saying, a little desperately, “You hate it, don’t you.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Enjolras said, and when Grantaire didn’t smile, he sighed and reached out to pull him close, kissing his forehead. “Of course I don’t hate it, I love it, because it’s from you, but, uh...”

“But it’s stupid and trite?” Grantaire said, his voice muffled against Enjolras’s chest.

“Again, I wouldn’t say that.” Enjolras pulled back to look at Grantaire. “You’re just normally, uh, really perceptive with your gifts.”

Grantaire winced. “I knew you hated it. Can I give you that explanation now?”

“Can I give you my present first?” Enjolras asked.

“Enjolras—“

“Please?”

Grantaire sighed, but Enjolras saying ‘please’ was his kryptonite. “Fine.”

Enjolras reached into his bag and pulled out a stack of papers, which he handed to Grantaire. “Here.”

“You got me used xerox paper?” Grantaire said, a little dryly. “I no longer feel bad about the bear.”

“Grantaire.”

“I mean it is eco-friendly, I guess, but—“

“Grantaire.” Grantaire fell silent and Enjolras continued, “The gift is what’s printed on the xerox paper, dumbass.”

Grantaire smirked but obediently looked back down at the papers. His forehead furrowed, just slightly, as he read through the first page, and then the second. By the third, his smirk had softened into a grin, and it was on the sixth that he looked up at Enjolras, his eyes suspiciously wet. “Oh my God, Enjolras—“


	4. Chapter 4

The papers Enjolras had handed Grantaire were email printouts, which, to probably every other couple, were not the most romantic thing in the world.

But Enjolras and Grantaire weren’t every other couple.

 _Unfortunately, I can’t make it that night_ , the first one read. _I have other plans, but I will send one of my best lieutenants_.

 _Les Amis would be happy to lend our support, and I will do what I can up until the day of_ , another said, _but I can’t make it that day_.

A third asked to reschedule a meeting _due to a family illness_ , which Grantaire recognized as the time last year he got strep throat.

And so on, over a dozen similar emails.

There, printed out in black and white, was every time over the past year that Enjolras had picked him. Had chosen him. Had put him first over the Cause, over whatever else he was doing or working on.

It was everything Grantaire had ever wanted from him.

It was perfect.

He looked up at Enjolras, the breath caught in his throat. “Oh my God, Enjolras—“ he started, though he couldn’t seem to manage any words after that.

Not that it mattered, because Enjolras was smiling at him with that perfect smile he always seemed to save just for him, and words didn’t really matter at that point.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Enjolras if he didn’t at least try. “I’m not always good at saying it,” he started, “and I’m definitely not great at showing it, but...”

Grantaire cut him off by kissing him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Enjolras kissed Grantaire again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Grantaire.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Enjolras.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other and in how perfect things had ended up, until Grantaire cleared his throat, looking up at Enjolras. “Can we agree on something right now?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“No more Valentine’s Day presents.”

Enjolras blinked. “I mean, I’m fine with that, but why?”

“Because you will never top this,” Grantaire told him.

Enjolras barked a laugh. “Fair.”

“And besides, I’ve set the bar so low that I literally can’t go anywhere but up, which is just setting you up for failure,” Grantaire said smugly.

Enjolras laughed again and shook his head. “Deal,” he said, kissing Grantaire once more.

Grantaire laced their fingers together. “Now let’s go get tipsy on cheap champagne and have lots and lots of sex.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. “Perfect,” he said.

Because for them, it was.


End file.
